


Entrust

by galmaegi



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Coming Out, M/M, Pen Pals, Pseudo-Incest, Step-Brothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-04 13:10:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galmaegi/pseuds/galmaegi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sungyeol doesn’t want to get closer to his new stepbrother, until he finds out they have more in common than just family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blingyeol](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blingyeol/gifts).



> Contains some discussion of homophobia and outing.
> 
> Written for for [infinitesanta](http://infinitesanta.livejournal.com) 2013.

Sungyeol’s in the middle of a very intense online _Halo_ battle with Hoya1991 from Busan when his phone buzzes twice on his desk with an e-mail notification. Given that it’s the second decade of the 21st century and nearly everyone uses instant messaging, there’s only three things it could be: a notice from his university, a message from his dad in California, or a response from one of the places where he’d applied for a part-time job the week before. All of these need to be opened immediately.

“Pause, pause, pause,” Sungyeol shouts into his headset, fumbling for his phone.

On the other end, Hoya1991 scoffs. “There’s thirty seconds left,” he says. “You don’t pause now unless you’re a pussy.” As if to underline his point, he darts past Sungyeol and lets loose a stream of gunfire, which Sungyeol narrowly manages to avoid by dashing behind a nearby rock.

“Oh, come on!” Sungyeol exhales heavily through his nostrils. “Jackass.”

Still, he picks his phone up with his left hand and slides his thumb to unlock it, eyes fixed on his laptop screen. Hoya1991 has gone silent, and all Sungyeol can hear in his headset is an occasional rasp of breath. His eyes dart back and forth between his phone and the screen as he manoeuvres his soldier with one hand and opens the e-mail with the other. The message is not from his dad or his university, but from someone named “LEE SUNG JONG”. It takes Sungyeol a second before he processes why the name sounds familiar, and when he realizes he does a double take at his phone.

Lee Sungjong is one of Lee Changhyun’s two sons. Lee Changhyun is Sungyeol’s mom’s boyfriend – no, her _husband,_ he reminds himself, as he has been for four months now. Sungyeol has met Lee Changhyun a few times since he started dating his mother, from occasional visits to Yongin to when he helped her move into Changhyun’s home in Gwangju. But he’s only met the rest of his family once, at the wedding in Gwangju during his last winter vacation.

It barely counted as a meeting, in Sungyeol’s opinion. He and his grandparents had been the only ones representing their side, and he’d spent most of the night preoccupied with the idea that he was about to have a brand new family, which ironically had meant that he hadn’t paid much attention to the members of this new family. Sungjong and Sunkyu had mostly kept to themselves and their blood relatives anyway, probably having similar personal crises. The most he remembers about Sungjong is an irritatingly fake-sounding breathy voice and an intense mushroom cut, and he doesn’t think Sungjong remembers much more about him, either. He’s not sure why he would have any need to send an e-mail.

He looks back up at his computer suddenly, just in time to see Hoya1991 snipe him from out of nowhere as the clock runs down. “Fuck, are you kidding me?” Sungyeol exclaims, as the results board pops up, leaving the victorious soldier perpetually running in place into a rock. He looks like a dumbass, but it gives Sungyeol no comfort when he looks like an even bigger one.

He turns to his phone. “You better be worth it,” he grumbles to the e-mail as he opens it.

> _To Lee Sungyeol, my older brother:_
> 
> _Since we’re going to be living together soon, at least for a few weeks, my father (our father?) thought it would be good if I got in touch with you to say hi._
> 
> _Hi~ ^^_
> 
> _Sincerely,_
> 
> _Lee Sungjong_

“That’s it?” Sungyeol sighs. “You were not worth it at all.”

“I’m disconnecting, you fucking weirdo,” says Hoya1991.

\---

Hours later, lying on his couch with his organic chemistry textbook spread across his chest, Sungyeol starts writing an e-mail in response: _Hi,_ he writes. Then he pauses, and he thumbs out of his e-mail and brings up his contact list instead.

His mom answers on the third or fourth ring. “Hi, baby,” she says. Sungyeol will grudgingly admit that she sounds much happier all the time ever since she’s moved to Gwangju.

“Mom, what do you want me to say to Lee Sungjong?” he whines. “And don’t tell me you didn’t put him up to this. Even if he says it was his dad, I know it was your idea.”

“Isn’t it a good idea?” she replies. There’s a hissing in the background. She’s probably cooking; it’s close to dinner time. Sungyeol puts his hand on his stomach. “Since you’re coming here soon and all. And it’s not like you’re strangers.”

“We basically are.” Sungyeol shifts on the couch until his head is dangling over the edge and his legs are in the air against the wall. “Did you tell him to e-mail Daeyeol, too? They’re the same age, they probably have more in common.”

“Uh-huh. You mean your brother who lives in America, who he’s _not_ meeting in three weeks?”

Sungyeol exhales noisily. “Why can’t we just get to know each other when I get there? And, you know, I might not be going there anyway. If I can get a job…”

“Oh, don’t worry about the job. Just come and see us.”

“Who’s us?” Sungyeol asks, before he realizes. His mom sighs.

“Sungyeol-ah,” she says. “I know this was my decision and not yours. But I’d really appreciate it if you’d give me some support, okay?”

Sungyeol’s voice comes up in his throat to protest, and then he swallows it down. “I know,” he says instead. “Okay. I’ll think of something to say to this kid, I guess. I can’t guarantee it’ll be good.”

“Give him a chance.” Her voice lowers a little. “Changhyun told me he’s been having a bit of a hard time lately. I think he would appreciate having a _hyung_ to talk to.”

Sungyeol thinks about Daeyeol, almost 10,000 kilometres away. It’s been almost two years since they last saw each other. He wonders how Daeyeol is getting along without a _hyung._ “We’ll see.”

After they’ve hung up he leans against the couch upside-down for a few more moments, before his head starts to hurt from all the blood. He attempts to straighten himself, then falls off the couch instead.

After dinner, he takes out his phone again and composes an e-mail in earnest:

> _Dear Lee Sungjong,_
> 
> _Hi, nice to hear from you! I heard that you are having a hard time these days. It’s from studying, isn’t it? I’m studying a lot too_ _ㅠㅠ Even after your first year of university, it feels like it won’t end... But it does end eventually! Summer is almost here, so if you’re feeling tired, think of that and gain some strength!_
> 
> _I don’t know what else to write so I’ll end here!_
> 
> _From your older brother,_
> 
> _Sungyeol_

\---

Sungjong replies the next day:

> _Who told you this? I’m getting along fine... And even if I’m not, I’ll look after myself. But I guess these are the concerns brothers are supposed to have for each other._
> 
> _In that case, older brother, please don’t get discouraged that no one is hiring you for a summer job. Not everyone is so lucky to have so much free time ^^_
> 
> _Lee Sungjong_

Sungyeol splutters out loud in the cafe he’s sitting in, causing others to turn their heads towards him. Without even thinking, he hits reply.

> _So familiar already! Why don’t you wish your older brother would get a job and then I don’t have to visit? What is there in Gwangju, anyway... Angry students? Skatefish?_

Just as he hits send, something kicks him sharply in the shin and he yells, snapping to attention. His friend Woohyun sits down across from him with an iced coffee in hand. “Yah, what’s wrong with you?” says Sungyeol. “Can’t you say hello like a normal person?”

“You didn’t answer, so I had to resort to direct action.” Woohyun pulls his books out of his backpack and nods at Sungyeol’s phone. “What game are you playing? You were tapping on your phone like you wanted to punch through the screen. Your face was all ugly. Is it a new game?”

Sungyeol thinks about it. “I guess it is.” He pulls his coffee tray back to make room for Woohyun’s books, which only makes Woohyun spread them out further toward Sungyeol’s side of the table. “Hey, hey, did you hear anything about the job at your restaurant?”

Woohyun pauses, then pulls out his molecular biology textbook, the heaviest one. “Mrs. Kang’s nephew needs a job or something, so she’s going to give it to him. Sorry, I tried to convince her.”

“Ugh, what good are friend connections? Why can’t you be related to me instead?” Sungyeol slumps down in his seat, his head on the table. He picks up his coffee and slurps at it. It mostly tastes like melted ice and stale cream. “Maybe your dad should’ve married my mom.”

“Ohh,” says Woohyun, “that’s what it is. You really don’t wanna go to Gwangju, huh?” Sungyeol glances up at him miserably. “Come on, I don’t think it will be that bad. You’ll get to see your mom again, right? And your little brothers...”

“My brother lives in California,” Sungyeol mumbles.

“Your little sisters, then,” Woohyun amends. “There was a girly one, right?”

“He’s a punk! He’s the worst one of all. Look at what he sent me!” Sungyeol shows Woohyun his phone and Woohyun takes it and reads the message. He laughs, a little incredulously. “I know, isn’t that awful?” says Sungyeol.

Woohyun laughs again and passes Sungyeol back his phone. “He’s joking,” he says. “He’s trying to be funny.”

“Well, he sounds like an asshole.”

“It’s cute.”

Sungyeol tuts irritably. “How can you call that cute? It’s disrespectful.”

“You sound like you’re four hundred years old,” says Woohyun. He cracks open his textbook. “Can we study now? It’s Friday, I wanna go out tonight. Or are you gonna let some disrespectful punk fail you out of school?”

“Oh! Maybe if I do summer school I won’t have to go,” Sungyeol muses.

Woohyun shakes his head. “Now you just sound pathetic.”

Four hours later, Sungyeol’s back at home getting ready, his head still swimming in molecular biology, when his phone buzzes twice in his pocket. It takes him a moment to remember what it is, but when he does he groans. He takes out his phone, and then takes four deep breaths before he slides his thumb over the lock, one eye closed, fearing the worst.

> _I’m in Gwangju! Isn’t that enough? +_+_
> 
> _I’ll ask you the same question – what’s there in Seoul anyway that you can’t get here?_
> 
> _Answer carefully!_

Sungyeol feels a sudden relief. Not that he needs anything from this rude kid, he reminds himself, but he always prefers to avoid conflict rather than create it. Sungjong’s tone is still harsh, but now Sungyeol can see what Woohyun meant about him trying to be funny. For some reason, he starts thinking about what Sungjong might’ve looked like composing the message, his eyes and nostrils flaring underneath the black curtain of his bowl cut, giving a grim nod of satisfaction as he hit send, maybe with a little smile. Sungyeol hopes he had smiled.

“What’s in Seoul that you can’t get in Gwangju?” he asks Woohyun that night. “Something really, really good, something impressive.” They’re in Itaewon, standing outside on Homo Hill, drinking soju mixed with Hot Six before they hit the clubs.

Woohyun snorts into his paper cup. “I’ve never been to Gwangju, how am I supposed to know? Gyeongbokgung Palace?” Sungyeol grimaces at him. Woohyun spreads his arms wide. “What about this?”

“What, the Hill?”

“Probably the only place in the country where anyone even knows what a drag queen is, let alone can see one in real life.” Woohyun looks over his shoulder at the blond-haired queen taking the cover charge outside of the drag club on the corner, easily taller than Sungyeol in her pumps. “He’d probably be into that, right?”

“Yah, don’t be like that,” says Sungyeol. “Also, what the hell, I am not telling my _relatives_ that the best thing about Seoul is the men in dresses.”

Woohyun chuckles, checking out two short, wiry guys walking by. The blue-haired one glances back and grins before picking up speed to catch up with his friend. “It’d solve the no-girlfriend problem.”

“Idiot.” Sungyeol drains his cup and reaches for the soju bottle, only to find it empty. He crushes his cup in his hand and leaves it on the ledge next to the empty cans of energy drinks. “Let’s go dance.”

But the question stays on his mind the whole night. Even when a man dances badly up to him in the back of Queen, the neckline of his tank top gaping enough for Sungyeol to see his nipples if he looks down all the way, all Sungyeol can say to him is, “Have you been to Gwangju?”

The man nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, I’m from Jeonju. We’re neighbours.” He leans in. “Are you my neighbour?”

Sungyeol stays where he is. “What’s in Seoul that’s better than Gwangju?”

The man moves closer and grins. “The boys.”

Sungyeol chews on his upper lip, staring off somewhere above the man’s head. No one he knows is very creative, he thinks forlornly. “What’s in Gwangju that’s better than Seoul?” he tries instead.

“The motels.” When Sungyeol doesn’t respond, he backs away a bit. “Uh. Duck soup?”

Woohyun finds Sungyeol sitting outside half an hour later, writing and deleting the same sentence over and over on his phone. “You’re fun tonight,” he says, and Sungyeol glances up. “What’s the matter, are you nervous about exams? It’s the weekend.”

“I’m not nervous about...” He looks down at his phone, where the box to reply to Sungjong’s e-mail is open and waiting. “Not about exams, anyway.”

Woohyun glances down at Sungyeol’s phone before Sungyeol can hide his screen, and he groans. “Oh my God, you’re obsessed.”

“I don’t know what it is! I just need to be smarter than this guy. I want to say something that will make him laugh, or something.”

“Assert your dominance as the oldest. I understand.” Woohyun nods sympathetically. “Come on.”

He digs his hands under Sungyeol’s armpits in an attempt to lift him up. It tickles and Sungyeol shrieks and nearly falls off his chair. “What the hell?”

Woohyun nods towards the inside. “Let’s dance. You can study for your ecology exam later.”

Sungyeol looks down at his phone, then locks it and pockets it with a sigh. “Yes, sir.”

“That’s right. I’m the alpha male,” says Woohyun as he holds the door open for Sungyeol. Just for that, Sungyeol kicks him hard in the shins before he flees into the crowd, feeling better already.

Later that night, before he falls asleep, he manages to punch out an e-mail to Sungjong, his head heavy on his pillow and ringing with the noise and the alcohol.

> _I asked all the guys here your question but they all say the same thing! They say the only thing better in Seoul than in Gwangju is “the men”. Or “the men in dresses”. I think these answers are bad, but I can’t think of better ones. What do you think about that?? Ah, is it that I need new friends? It’s regretful..._

When he wakes up the next morning, he checks his e-mail to see if Sungjong’s sent him anything. Instead, he sees his own sent message.

He screams.

\---

Sungjong doesn’t respond to his message all day, even though Sungyeol keeps checking his e-mail every half hour as if it will make “LEE SUNG JONG” suddenly appear in his inbox. Finally, the notification comes that evening while he’s across the room making ramyeon, and he nearly trips over his feet running back across the room to get his phone from his desk. The blood drains out of his face as he reads:

> _Please don’t make fun of me. It’s not funny._

Sungyeol calls Woohyun. “I fucked up,” he says the instant Woohyun picks up.

“Were you hungover all day, too?” Woohyun sounds tired and slow, but Sungyeol’s heart is racing, the adrenaline zinging up and down his torso and arms. He feels like he can’t breathe.

“The men in dresses,” he babbles, “I told Sungjong about them. My brother in Gwangju. I answered his question with ‘men in dresses’.”

Woohyun is silent for a moment. Then he says, “Oh, shit. What did he say?”

“He thought I was making fun of him. Because he’s kind of feminine, right?” Sungyeol’s ramyeon makes an angry noise from across the room and he goes back to it and stirs it briskly. “What am I going to do?” he whines. “Help me, you’re the alpha male.”

“What does that have to do with anything here?” Woohyun sighs and Sungyeol can hear him shifting around on his bed. “Okay, okay. Why not be honest with him? Tell him you weren’t making fun of him.”

“But then I have to tell him everything.”

“You don’t have to tell him everything. You just have to be reassuring. Maybe get a little mad at him for thinking you would even dare make fun of him.” He pauses. “Actually, no. Just tell him you weren’t making fun of him. He’ll be fine.”

“Helpful,” grumbles Sungyeol. He lifts his metal chopsticks from the pot to his mouth and burns his lip. “Ah, fuck!”

After he’s eaten, he sits down at his desk and opens his computer. This is a serious message, and obviously writing e-mails on his phone hasn’t been working out very well for him.

> _Dear Sungjong,_
> 
> _I’m sorry that it sounded like I was making fun of you. The truth is_

Sungyeol takes a breath and stands up. He walks around the entire perimeter of his room, sits down at his desk, then gets up again and gets a glass of water. He thinks about going down to the convenience store for some beer, then thinks better of it. This is something that needs to be done sober, like a real man, he decides.

He sits down and deletes his unfinished sentence, then starts typing again.

> _I know I haven’t been the best hyung. But you should know that I’m someone you can trust, okay? So to prove it to you, I will tell you something I haven’t told anyone else in my family. Seriously. I’ll trust that you won’t tell it to anyone else, but it’s up to you. I will take that risk._

He takes a deep breath.

> _So. I wasn’t making fun or lying. These are my friends: guys who like the men in Seoul, and the men in dresses. Because the whole truth is, that’s me too._
> 
> _So now you know that I would never make fun of you in this way. In other ways, maybe! But not about anything this serious. Because it’s more serious to me._
> 
> _Sincerely,_
> 
> _Lee Sungyeol_

\---

Once again, Sungjong doesn’t reply the next day, nor the day after that. Sungyeol tries not to think about it too much at first, but the more days go by, the more worried he gets. He hasn’t heard from his mom either, he realizes; not that he would have, anyway, but now everything seems like a potential disaster. He goes through the days as if he’s holding his breath, stepping carefully. “Everything okay?” Woohyun asks him, but he just nods, afraid to tell even Woohyun what he’s done in case it’s jinxed.

And then, almost a week later, he feels the double vibration in his pocket while he’s walking to class. He’s running late, but he stops and opens his phone anyway. These e-mails are urgent now too.

Sungjong’s message is only one line, but as soon as Sungyeol reads it his jaw drops, wider than it had at Sungjong’s last e-mail. It’s as if the world stops around him, and the only thing that matters in that moment is the one small line of text on his phone. He’s not even sure if it’s relief that he’s feeling; he’s just stunned, and when he finally recovers he runs to class, buoyed by his pounding heart. He keeps looking back at his phone to make sure the message exists, just in case he was hallucinating. And every time, there it is, in stark black letters:

> _Hyung, that’s me, too._


	2. Chapter 2

The bus from Seoul to Gwangju leaves ten times a day, guaranteed, but Sungyeol feels full of nerves when he arrives at the terminal anyway. He buys a ticket for the bus that leaves in half an hour, then gets an iced coffee and sits in the waiting area, crossing and re-crossing his legs as he sips at his drink. An episode of _Dream Team_ is playing without sound on the TV, but he can’t pay attention to it.

It’s been three weeks since Sungjong first e-mailed him, and two since he’d told Sungyeol he was gay. Since then, they’ve exchanged a few more e-mails, settling into a routine of a new message every other days or so. There haven’t been any more great revelations, but they’re on more of an equal footing now, sharing rather than trying to outdo each other. The more Sungyeol’s gotten to know Sungjong, the more he likes him: his frankness, his optimism, his sense of humour. He can tell that Sungjong’s relaxed more, too, having an older person who’s not only there to give advice with his day to day worries, but with whom he can be himself completely. And somewhere between Sungjong’s eighth e-mail and his ninth, Sungyeol realized he had given up completely on the idea of getting a summer job, and more than that, he’d embraced the idea of going to Gwangju.

The bus trip is three hours long. Sungyeol’s brought some comic books and, out a sense of duty, one of his textbooks for the next semester, but all through the trip he just ends up re-reading Sungjong’s e-mails.

> _Sungyeol hyung! I was in charge of today’s dinner. I don’t cook very much but I think it turned out well. Here is a picture~ ta-da_
> 
> _Sungyeol hyung, please look after your health. One more exam and then you’ll be done ^-^ Fighting!!_
> 
> _There’s a bar I’ve wanted to visit for some time, but it’s hard going alone. You know what I mean, right? Maybe we can go together one day._
> 
> _I’m looking forward to your visit!_

Each message buoys Sungyeol a little, but it doesn’t do much for the weird nervous feeling coating the insides of his stomach and ribcage. He decides that he’s still worried about making a good impression, even though it’s silly because he’s already made it. There’s also the excitement of seeing his mom for the first time in months, and then on top of that there’s the coffee, which he can still taste in the back of his dry mouth, even though he’d bought a bottle of water at the rest stop.

Eventually the buildings start looking more familiar and more dense, and the bus driver announces their approach to the Gwangju terminal. His mom had promised to meet him there, even when he’d insisted that she not go out of her way. “It’s far,” she’d said, “and why should you pay for a taxi when we live there?” Sungyeol looks for her as the bus pulls into the terminal, but he can’t find her, and he’s distracted by the flashy signs of the surrounding motels.

He only sees her after he’s off the bus and through the terminal, past the crowds of people boarding and debarking. The bus terminal is much smaller than Seoul’s, making it seem way more busy. But soon enough, he spots her face in the crowd, and his own face splits into a grin. Then he sees who she’s standing with, and his grin falters a little, and his heart starts pounding in his chest, the nervous feeling from before suddenly amplified.

The last he’d seen of Sungjong was at the wedding almost half a year ago, when he was still finishing high school. That’s the image of him that had stuck in Sungyeol’s mind all this time, the scrawny kid with a goofy black mushroom cut and a suit. But the boy standing next to his mother is tall, for one, maybe almost as tall as Sungyeol. He’s wearing a pink collared shirt that flatters his slim frame, and his hair is short, dyed brown and swept to one side. His features are still full and delicate, but the soft edges have hardened a little, especially his strong, square jaw. When he sees Sungyeol he waves, and he doesn’t smile but his eyes are bright. And Sungyeol finally realizes why he’d felt so nervous on the bus ride, and he knows that it’s only going to get worse now that he’s seen him.

 _Fuck,_ he thinks, and swallows. His armpits are cold with sweat, and he doesn’t even want to think about his dick right now.

“Sungyeol-ah, over here,” his mom calls. He forces himself to snap out of it and walk forward. “Hi,” she says, and he makes a noise that sounds like “hi” back and lets her hug him. “How was the bus ride?” she asks. “You look a little ill, was it that bad?”

Sungyeol glances at Sungjong and then looks away immediately. He wants to keep looking, but he knows it won’t end well if he does. “It was fine,” he says. His voice is a bit dry, and he coughs, then forces himself to smile at her. “So are you my taxi?”

“That would be Sungjongie,” she says, and she nods to Sungjong. “And you two already know each other, right?”

“Thanks to you,” says Sungyeol, and she smiles. He doesn’t know if Sungjong smiles too because he can’t look at him.

Sungyeol sits in the backseat, with his mom navigating and Sungjong driving. He drives carefully, a little on the slow side, and brakes thoroughly at every 4-way stop or light. It draws out everything so much more, and by the fourth or fifth full stop Sungyeol is so jittery that he wants to tell Sungjong to knock it off and take them home already. Mercifully, his mom talks the whole way, asking him a few rote questions about school and then listing off the family’s plans for the next three weeks. Sungjong glances back at Sungyeol in the rearview mirror occasionally, but all Sungyeol can see are his eyes, angled and piercing and impossible to read.

They arrive at the house and Sungyeol nearly jumps out of his seat and swings the car door open. “Bathroom,” he says apologetically.

“Your bags,” says Sungjong. It’s the first thing he’s said since Sungyeol arrived in Gwangju, and his breathy voice is a little deeper than Sungyeol remembers, too much for his liking.

“I’ll grab them when I come out.”

Sungyeol nearly trips trying to take his shoes off at the entranceway before he stumbles into the bathroom and closes the door behind him. He pulls out his phone and starts writing a text to Woohyun:

> _Help me I met my stepbrother and_

He stops and stares at the words, then deletes them and puts his phone down. There is no way he can complete the sentence. Woohyun might be able to accept _I met my stepbrother and he’s hot,_ wrinkle his nose and make fun of him, but Sungyeol knows the nervous feeling in his chest goes beyond “hot boy”. It’s verging on something else, something he hasn’t felt for a guy in a while, something he doesn’t want to name because naming it would mean accepting it and it is absolutely unacceptable to feel this way about someone who’s now a member of his family.

He washes his hands and splashes some water in his face, hoping that will snap him out of it. “What am I going to do?” he asks himself in the mirror. But his reflection has no answers, only able to make the same bewildered expression back at him.

He comes back outside and Sungjong’s already carrying Sungyeol’s duffel bag and backpack out of the trunk. He brushes past Sungyeol as he goes inside but doesn’t make eye contact or speak to him. “Are you feeling okay? What’s the matter?” Sungyeol’s mom asks.

“I’m okay,” Sungyeol replies. “Just drank a lot of coffee on the bus.”

“Tch,” she scolds, wrapping an arm around him, “you know that’s not good for you.” It feels nice to be in her arms again, so he doesn’t shake her off. He glances into the house, but Sungjong’s disappeared.

He and his mom walk back inside together. She pats his arm steadily as they walk. “So, we don’t have a spare bedroom, but Sungjong has kindly offered to let you use his.”

“H-his bed?” Sungyeol wishes he hadn’t stuttered.

“He’s going to take the floor mattress,” she continues, either not noticing or ignoring him, “in his own room or in the living room, whichever you prefer.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to put Sungjong out,” he says, conscious of how he’s referring to him formally, “so why don’t I take the floor mattress instead? I’ll be a good guest, right?”

His mom hums. “We’re family, sweetie. I know Sungjong isn’t the most accepting of that either, but please remember that.”

“I know, I know. I’ll just have to get used to it, I guess.” Then he turns his head to her suddenly. “Wait, what?”

She lowers her voice, glancing to see if Sungjong’s around, but he’s still nowhere to be seen. “You’ve seen him,” she says. Sungyeol pinches himself to keep from responding to that. “And, well, you know yourself how unresponsive he’s been with the e-mails.” She sighs. “Hopefully, like you said, he’ll warm up more when you meet in person.”

Sungyeol frowns. He had thought they were already warm enough with each other. Then something in his brain clicks into comprehension, and he’s suddenly annoyed, partly with himself for not seeing this coming, but mostly with Sungjong.

“Yeah,” he says. Sungjong passes through the hallway and gives them a tight smile, his eyes cast down, before he disappears into another room. Sungyeol’s stomach flutters, but only a little, too busy burning with irritation. “I’m not holding my breath.”

Changhyun and Sunkyu are away that day at a baseball tournament in Daegu, so dinner is just the three of them, soon reduced to the two of them when Sungjong eats his stew as quickly as possible and then excuses himself. Sungyeol raises his eyebrows at his mom, and she shakes her head a little, but doesn’t get up. “What can I do?” she says, and Sungyeol doesn’t want to tell her that he’s asked himself the same thing.

As promised, that night Sungyeol lays out the flat floor mattress in the living room. Sungjong comes out in his pajamas and stands watching him, and when Sungyeol moves away to get a blanket from the couch he says, “Thank you, older brother.” His tone is flat and polite.

“It’s only right that you get to keep your own room,” Sungyeol replies. He tries to keep his tone just as neutral and formal, but it comes out mocking instead. “I’m just a guest.”

“Hmm?” Sungjong tilts his head sideways. “Isn’t this for me? Aren’t you sleeping in my bed?” Sungyeol’s stomach jumps a little in excitement, but he shudders it out.

“Aish, don’t say it like that,” he snaps, turning to Sungjong to see his face go dark. Sungyeol knows he should apologize, but in that moment it feels better to be angry, so he stays angry. “And no, I’ll take the floor out here, thanks. I think it will be a lot more comfortable.”

“Then enjoy it,” says Sungjong. “Good night, hyung.” He goes into his room and Sungyeol expects the door to slam, but instead it only closes with a quiet click.

Sungyeol picks up his pillow, sticks it over his face and lets out a scream of frustration. If he’d just had a warning, he thinks, he’d be fine with Sungjong acting this way around him in public. But it’s as if he really had been talking to the sweet kid with the mushroom cut this whole time, only to find him exchanged overnight with this handsome, incredibly rude stranger. When he’d trusted Sungjong to keep his secret, he hadn’t meant their entire correspondence.

If only, he thinks, he could have exchanged his feelings for the old Sungjong, too.

He settles between the mattress and the thin pale blue knitted blanket. It’s one his grandmother had made when he and his brother were still little, and it at least feels instantly familiar. He checks his phone, and finds himself opening the e-mails from Sungjong again. They’re all still there, still real. Sungyeol tries to picture this new Sungjong writing them, sitting at his computer or hunched secretively over his phone on the couch. It was easy to imagine the old Sungjong sending the best pictures of the food he’d cooked, or shyly writing to his hyung for advice. Now Sungyeol’s not sure if he even can picture Sungjong smiling anymore, and even worse, he knows that if he did see him smile he’d get that entirely inappropriate pang in his chest again.

He’s been there for less than one day, and already the next three weeks are looking very, very long.

\---

Changhyun and Sunkyu return the next morning, and Changhyun wastes no time taking the three boys to Mudeungsan for a mountain hike. Sungyeol likes Changhyun – he’s active and enthusiastic, and he’s nice to Sungyeol’s mom. He’s maybe a little too enthusiastic, as he sets a brisk pace for the hike, with Sunkyu panting as he half-runs to keep up with his dad. “I already did spring training,” he groans, before he tackles the next set of stairs.

Sungyeol and Sungjong end up a bit further back. Earlier on the trail, Changhyun had called to them to hurry up, and Sungyeol replied, “I’d like to look at the scenery.” Changhyun seemed to accept that answer, nodding and continuing on with Sunkyu with a promise to meet at the halfway point.

The scenery is indeed beautiful as they climb higher – it’s a nice clear day today, and Sungyeol is pretty sure he can see all the way to the ocean from certain angles. But he keeps glancing away from it back at Sungjong. He’s waiting for Sungjong to break away and pass him at any moment now, but every time, he’s still there, staring forward, his jaw set and determined and his arms swinging. Occasionally he’ll stop to look around as the view gets better and better, but otherwise he stays on pace with Sungyeol, always a few steps behind, never saying a word.

Finally, they reach a lookout stop just before the halfway meeting point, and Sungyeol comes to a halt. Sungjong continues on a bit, and then stops and turns back. “We’re almost there,” he says. “Are you tired now?”

“I just wanted to say this to you in private,” says Sungyeol. Three old ladies with hiking poles and visors walk by, and Sungyeol watches them pass between him and Sungjong. “Well, away from your family, anyway.”

Sungjong hums and crosses his arms, pulling his lips into a faint smile. “Sure, what is it?”

“Just...” Sungjong is looking straight at him, and Sungyeol’s stomach is doing that dropping thing again. He looks away at the view down the mountain, and briefly considers what would happen if he rolled down it instead. “If you can’t act like you don’t hate me, at least don’t act like we’re total strangers, okay? Because we aren’t.” He turns back to Sungjong and inhales deeply, forcing himself to keep looking and not melt into the ground like he wants to.

Sungjong tilts his head. “What are we?”

Sungyeol stares at him, his nostrils flared. “We’re brothers,” he says flatly, even as his heart jumps in his chest. “Whether you like it or not,” he adds for good measure.

Sungjong hums. “I see.” Then he turns and continues up the trail.

“Lee Sungjong!” Sungyeol climbs up after him, but he doesn’t stop until they’ve reached the plateau, and by then Changhyun and Sunkyu are there, listening as an old man slowly points out various landmarks to them. Sungyeol gives up on the conversation, and instead throws himself into trying to keep pace with Changhyun the rest of the way, to both Changhyun and Sungjong’s surprise.

“You’re doing well,” Changhyun tells him as they near the peak, taking a seat to let the other two boys catch up. “You were just saving yourself, I see.”

Sungyeol’s out of breath, but he flashes his stepdad a toothy grin. “I can do anything,” he says, watching as Sungjong finally comes up the trail behind them, “with the right inspiration.”

They eat dinner that night as a proper family, as Sungjong can’t use the excuse of informality to skip out early. Thankfully, Sungyeol sits between his mom and Sunkyu, with Sungjong on the other side of the table just out of his view, and Changhyun and his mom make most of the conversation, catching up after the weekend apart from each other. Still, it doesn’t stop Sungyeol’s hands from shaking when he passes Sungjong a glass of water, to the point where the water splashes on the table and spills into the kimchi.

“Sorry, sorry,” says Sungyeol quickly, before anyone else – especially Sungjong – can say anything. He gets up. “I’ll get some more.”

“It’s okay, Sungyeol-ah,” his mother begins, but Sungyeol’s already up and in the kitchen.

He puts some kimchi in a new dish and takes a breath to steady himself. Then he walks back towards the family room and promptly trips on a blanket in the hallway, upending the dish of kimchi onto the floor mattress, which had been neatly folded next to it. He freezes, staring at the mess in horror.

“Are you okay?” Sungyeol’s mom comes out into the hallway and sees her son lying there and the kimchi all over the floor mattress. “Oh, Sungyeol.”

“I’m really sorry,” he says as he gets up again. His mom gets some paper towel and picks the kimchi off the mattress, leaving an orange stain. “I can sleep on it like that tonight.”

She waves him away. “Don’t worry about it. Just go do what you came to do.”

So Sungyeol tries again, this time stepping carefully in the hallway and making sure to pick up his feet as he walks. Whatever nerves he’d had before have been replaced by a dripping feeling of shame, which doesn’t feel good, but at least makes him more steady.

His mom settles back at the table around the same time as him. “I put it in the wash,” she informs him.

“What happened?” Sunkyu asks.

“I tripped,” Sungyeol replies. “Mom, really, I said it was okay.”

She shakes her head. “If you leave it too long, the whole thing will smell like kimchi forever.”

“I don’t mind, seriously. What am I supposed to do now, just sleep on the floor?”

“You can use my room,” Sungjong says, and even though his voice is soft the whole table seems to go quiet. Sungyeol stares at him, eyes wide, and Sungjong shrugs and lifts another piece of fish to his mouth. “What’s the big deal? He’s my brother.” Sungyeol knows what the big deal is, but there’s no way he can say it at the table, or ever. The breath stuck in his throat isn’t letting many words out around it, anyway.

“That’s very nice of you, Sungjong,” says Sungyeol’s mom approvingly. Sungjong chews his fish, and for the first time since Sungyeol’s arrival, he smiles.

When Sungyeol’s ready for bed, he sits on the edge of Sungjong’s mattress and clutches his pillow against his chest tightly. Sungjong has a double bed, which clears up some problems, but Sungyeol still fears the worst, especially once Sungjong comes in in his pajamas and closes the door behind him. Sungyeol watches as Sungjong makes his way through the room, adjusting things on his desk and setting his alarm on his phone. Eventually Sungjong looks over his shoulder to Sungyeol and sees him staring.

“You can lie down, you know,” he says, and his voice sounds different from before – still flat, but more natural, like an actual person speaking and not a robot. “You don’t need to wait for permission.”

“If this is another screwy game of yours, I don’t want to play,” Sungyeol answers. “Are we brothers or not?”

Sungjong hums. “I think that was already decided for us. But you’re right,” he adds, and he sits down next to Sungyeol on the bed, leaving a gap between them. Sungyeol looks away from him, and hugs the pillow tighter. “Since it won’t change, we might as well make the most of it. So let’s be friends.”

Sungyeol snorts, but he doesn’t want to ruin this, so he keeps his comment to himself. “Friends sounds good,” he agrees.

Sungjong gets up to turn out the light. “So lie down, my friend.”

“Don’t make this weird,” Sungyeol replies, and Sungjong laughs a little as he walks back towards the bed. His laugh is light and feels like bubbles popping in Sungyeol’s stomach, and Sungyeol admonishes himself, too: _Don’t make this weird._

Sungjong falls asleep first, his back turned to Sungyeol, and Sungyeol’s not sure if he can sleep now. It’s a warm night, and the blanket is down around Sungjong’s waist, leaving the line of his shoulder blades under his t-shirt exposed in the moonlight. Sungyeol’s fingers itch, yearning to trace the curve of his ribs and settle into his waist. He can feel himself getting hard at the sight of the back of Sungjong’s neck – his _stepbrother’s_ neck, he reminds himself then, hoping to kill whatever horrible thought he’s about to have next. Sungjong’s being nice to him for the first time since he arrived in Gwangju, and Sungyeol is not about to ruin that with his perverted fantasies.

He gets up quietly and goes to the bathroom, praying no one will see the boner loose in his pants. The bathroom light temporarily blinds him, and brings him back to his senses as his eyes adjust. He leans over the sink and stares at himself in the mirror, thinking of what he should do. He briefly considers jerking off, and even goes so far as to hook a thumb into the elastic waistband of his pajama pants, before he concludes that it would only make things worse if he had to return to his stepbrother’s room with his hands smelling like cum, never mind what possible terrible thoughts would get him there. He splashes cold water on his face instead, then over his wrists, and finally down the back of his neck and into his pants, shocking himself into going soft.

When he returns to the bedroom he doesn’t look at Sungjong, and lies down facing away from him. There are cold wet spots in his pants and his shirt, but it gives him something to focus on as he drifts into sleep, definitely not listening to the quiet breathing of his stepbrother behind him.

\---

Sungyeol returns to sleeping in the living room the next night – it’s less stressful – but Sungjong’s civil behaviour towards him continues through the week. They don’t interact one-on-one any more than they did before, but Sungjong smiles more often, and even laughs at Sungyeol’s jokes sometimes. Sungyeol still hasn’t figured out how to quell the butterflies in his stomach whenever Sungjong smiles at him, but for now he can swallow them down and accept them as a reality he’ll have to live with.

The problem is that the more relaxed he gets, the more daring he gets, and the more he wants to indulge those fluttery feelings and twitches he feels whenever he gets too close to Sungjong. _Just a little,_ he reasons to himself as he leans in a bit closer to Sungjong at the mall, enough to catch a whiff of soap, before Sungjong turns his head slightly and he cranes back again. In a restaurant, he rests his foot against Sungjong’s under the table, until Sungjong clears his throat and glares at him and he feigns ignorance that it wasn’t just the bar of his chair. _It’s just giving affection, nothing bad._

Still, even with all the justifications, it feels like he’s balancing a sheet of glass in the air, something fragile and delicate and liable to hurt him if he loses control. And at the end of the week, when he braces his hand against Sungjong’s thigh for a beat too long while reaching for a piece of pancake across the dinner table, that’s exactly what happens.

“Hyung,” says Sungjong. His tone is flat and forceful, and Sungyeol nearly drops his chopsticks, rearing back.

“Sorry,” he says. This time, he doesn’t have to fake his stunned expression. “Did I hurt you?”

Sungjong stands up from the table. “That’s it.”

“Sungjong, please sit down,” says Sungyeol’s mom.

“I’ve had it,” Sungjong spits. “Kyungok _eomeoni_ I can accept as a mom, but your son is an asshole.”

“What are you talking about?” says Sungyeol. He laughs incredulously as he stands up too. “ _I’m_ the asshole? I’m not the one who acted all friendly and cute and then turned cold as soon as we met. Which is the real you, huh? Is it this fake, two-faced person I’ve gotten to know here? Or is it the brother who sent me e-mails, who told me...”

He stops dead in the middle of his sentence. Sungjong’s lips are closed and trembling, but his eyes are huge and angry, staring holes into Sungyeol, daring him to go on. “Told you what?” he cries. “Say it! What did I tell you?”

Sungyeol takes a big, shaky breath, and then he swallows. “Told me he wanted me to visit,” he finishes lamely. Sungjong doesn’t look any more relaxed, but Sungyeol sits down. “That’s all.”

The other members of their family are silent at the table. Sungjong stares at Sungyeol for a moment more, and then he turns and goes to the door. He puts on his shoes and walks out of the house, slamming the door behind him. “Sungjong!” shouts Changhyun, getting up, but Sungyeol’s mom puts a hand on his arm.

Sungyeol stares at the door, and then he gets up and runs out too, still in his house slippers. “Sungyeol,” he hears his mother yell out behind him. He sees a taxi leaving down their street and runs after it, but he can’t see who’s in it. He runs all the way to the corner bus stop, but Sungjong is nowhere to be seen. The nearest subway stop is another 15-minute walk away, but Sungyeol can’t see Sungjong on his way there, either.

He slumps down by the bus stop, and then he slaps himself across the face. He can’t believe how close he came to outing Sungjong in front of everyone – everyone that mattered. Getting angry was no excuse. For all that he had the right to be angry, Sungjong did too. And anyway, the trust they had placed in each other had nothing to do with how they might feel about each other in a single moment. They had each promised to keep the other’s secret safe, and that meant never using the secret as a weapon, no matter how much they might hate each other.

That’s the bond of family.

Sungyeol drags himself back into the house. Everyone’s left the room except for Sunkyu, who’s clearing the table. “Hyung will be back,” he says when he sees Sungyeol. “He always comes back eventually.”

“Does this happen a lot or something?”

“Only when he gets really pissed. It hasn’t happened in a while.” Sunkyu shrugs. “I don’t think he’s mad at you, though.”

Sungyeol laughs in disbelief. “Did you not see him screaming at me?”

Sunkyu stacks the last of the plates. “Hyung has a lot of anger issues,” he says. “But when he really gets mad, I mean _really,_ it’s at himself.” He lifts up the stack of plates and carries them into the kitchen.

Sungyeol goes into Sungjong’s room, and he sits on Sungjong’s bed and looks around. He wonders what would happen if he just stayed there until Sungjong came back in, whenever that was. He wonders if, this time, Sungjong won’t come back. Sungyeol doesn’t know about the previous incidents, but in this case, the thing that’s made Sungjong angry is there living in his house, is a member of his family. If it were him, he probably wouldn’t want to come back either.

Then he suddenly gets an idea. He takes out his phone and goes into his messages from Sungjong, careful to skim past them quickly until he finds the one he’s looking for.

> _There’s a bar I’ve wanted to visit for some time._

Sungyeol looks up the address and directions, then goes to the door and puts on proper shoes. His mom comes out of her room and calls to him. “Where are you going?” Her voice sounds a bit heavy, like she’s been crying. Sungyeol bites his lip.

“I’m going to get Sungjong,” he says. “I’ll be back.”

“Sungyeol...”

Sungyeol finishes tying his shoelaces and stands up. “I need to do this, Mom. Don’t worry, I’ll bring him home.”

It’s dark by the time he comes out of the subway and heads in the direction of the bar. He hasn’t been out much in Gwangju yet, but the area around Geumnamno already reminds him of a less dense Hongdae, with foreign students and young people flowing in and out of the restaurants and bars or huddled laughing on the curbs, buskers setting up guitars and keyboards, and narrow, quiet alleys branching off of the main square. It’s in one of these alleys that he finds the place he’s looking for, a small, uncrowded space with no indication that it’s a gay bar.

Sungjong is sitting at the bar, slumped forward, with the last dregs of some kind of cocktail and a dish of peanuts in front of him. The bartender greets Sungyeol when he walks in, and Sungjong looks up. He’s beautiful, lit only by the pink and blue neon behind the bar, and Sungyeol swallows, remembers why he’s here as he walks forward. He expects Sungjong to start yelling, but he only laughs, a shoulder-shaking, breathy laugh that has no joy in it.

“Of course you’re here,” he says, turning back around, “of course.”

Sungyeol sits down on the stool next to him. “I’m sorry,” he says, before anything else. “I got too angry. There’s no excuse. I won’t do it again.” Sungjong covers his eyes. “Hey.” Sungyeol reaches to move his arm away, but Sungjong pushes at his hand violently. “Hey,” he says again, more forceful. “What’s the matter?”

Sungjong’s voice is wet with tears now, but he keeps the same steady tone. “Why do you keep touching me?”

Sungyeol’s blood runs cold. “Sungjong, I...”

“You’re the one who keeps reminding me that we’re brothers, we’re brothers, and then you keep touching me all the time,” he continues. He sniffles. “Don’t you even think about how that makes me feel? To you it doesn’t mean anything, but to me...”

“Wait, what?” Sungyeol leans closer.

Sungjong wipes at his eyes and sits up straight. “Okay, fine, I’ll say it.” He turns to Sungyeol, and his eyes are bright and clear. “I like you, you idiot,” he says, and once again it’s like the world’s stopped moving around Sungyeol, and there’s nothing but the blood flowing wildly around his body and Sungjong in front of him, there.

“You like me,” he repeats.

“Now you know.” Sungjong gets up.

“Wait. Sungjong...” Sungjong walks out the door, and Sungyeol gets up and follows him. “Hey! Lee Sungjong!”

Sungjong turns around in the street. He looks so small, all of a sudden, and so sad, and Sungyeol sees once again the kid he’d met at his mother’s second wedding, nervous and good-natured and shy. He’s someone Sungyeol wants to protect, like a brother; he’s also someone that Sungyeol wants to touch, and kiss, and he wants to make him feel not just safe, but loved. It’s wrong, and it’s risky, and they both know it. But Sungyeol can feel Sungjong slipping out of his grasp, and he knows that if he doesn’t do something now, he’ll lose him forever. And that’s worse than anything, to him.

“I like you, too,” he says. Then he says it again, louder, so it echoes off the alley. “I like you. Really, I do.”

Sungjong stays where he is, but his lips are trembling. Sungyeol takes a step closer, and Sungjong doesn’t move, so he keeps walking forward. “I like you,” he says, and he smiles, because it’s so easy to say it. “Lee Sungjong, I like you.”

He walks all the way up to Sungjong and stops right in front of him. They really are almost the same height. Sungjong looks up at him, his eyes still a little puffy, but dry. They’re so close to each other.

“Well,” says Sungjong, “what are you waiting for?”

Sungyeol laughs, because he can’t believe it, and then he leans down and kisses Sungjong.

It’s not exactly the stuff of dreams – Sungjong’s mouth has no taste besides some stray peanut salt on the inside of his lip, and his jaw is too stiff – but when Sungyeol pulls away his heart is pounding, and already he’s getting hard, and Sungjong is smiling.

“Hyung,” he says, his voice low.

Sungyeol giggles nervously. “Ah, don’t call me that, please.”

Sungjong hums. “Okay. Lee Sungyeol.” Something between Sungyeol’s ribs comes apart at that, and he scoops up Sungjong into a hug, pulling him close, his cheek against the younger boy’s temple. Sungjong’s arms wrap around him, too, and he ducks his head and laughs into Sungyeol’s chest.

On the subway back home, they sit side by side quietly, letting only the sides of their legs touch. Sungyeol wants more, wants to put his hands and mouth all over Sungjong now that he knows he can, but the invisible hand pressing into his chest and keeping him back isn’t one of fear, this time, but anticipation.

They walk quietly into the house. Changhyun is sitting on the couch, and he gets up when he sees them come in. “Where were you?” he asks. Sungyeol expects him to sound angry, but he sounds more tired than anything else, his voice deep and solemn.

Sungjong glances back at Sungyeol. “Out,” says Sungyeol.

“We made up, Dad,” says Sungjong. He hangs his head. “I’m sorry for upsetting everyone at dinner.”

Changhyun sighs, scratching his head. “We can talk about it tomorrow,” he says. “I’m just glad you’re safe.” He looks up. “Thank you, Sungyeol.”

Sungyeol shrugs. “Don’t mention it. It was my fault.”

They say goodnight, and then Changhyun goes to his room. Sungyeol feels funny. “Well, good night,” he says to Sungjong.

“Where are you going?” Sungjong asks, tilting his head.

Sungyeol’s stomach starts burning, and he thinks he knows what’s coming, but he doesn’t dare hope. “To sleep,” he says. He goes to the couch, where the floor mattress is lying folded to one side. “This thing.”

Sungjong rocks back and forth on his feet. “Want to sleep in my room?” His hair is falling into his eyes and he brushes it back, and Sungyeol knows he couldn’t say no if he tried.

Sungjong kisses him as soon as he sits down on the bed, sliding his arms over Sungyeol’s shoulders as Sungyeol wraps his own around Sungjong’s waist, feeling the ridges of his bones and muscles through his t-shirt. Sungyeol’s heart is racing and he has to keep pulling back to catch his breath.

“What’s the matter?” Sungjong murmurs. His eyes are half-closed under his long eyelashes, and his lips are full and red from kissing. Sungyeol pulls his head in until their foreheads touch, and then he starts laughing, as quietly as possible, his chest shaking. Sungjong tries to pull back a bit. “What’s so funny?”

“I’m just... This is ridiculous. It’s ridiculous, right?”

Sungjong tilts his head. “Lee Sungyeol.”

“And amazing.” Sungyeol straightens to look at Sungjong’s smiling face properly, and then he sighs happily and leans in, pulling him close and covering his face with kisses. “How do I know that this isn’t a dream?”

Sungjong nestles his face into Sungyeol’s shoulder. Then he pinches him hard on his back, his sharp nails pressing through the fabric of Sungyeol’s shirt, and Sungyeol gasps and swears, jerking backwards.

“Oww, what was that for?”

“So you know it’s not a dream,” says Sungjong sweetly. Just for that, Sungyeol tackles him to the bed, and he goes down giggling.

In the morning, Sungyeol wakes up with his limbs tangled in the sheets. He looks over to see Sungjong lying next to him, still asleep, and he takes a deep breath, equal parts nervous and happy, but not regretful. Carefully, he leans forward and presses a kiss to his temple, and Sungjong stirs and hums, making Sungyeol’s stomach flutter.

He opens his eyes. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” says Sungyeol. He’s smiling so wide his face hurts.

Then there’s a knock on the door. “Sungjong-ah?” calls Sungyeol’s mom.

“Shit!” Sungyeol’s limbs explode as he scrambles to cover himself, or hide, or maybe disappear into a hole in time. But Sungjong grips his arm firmly, pulling him down to the bed.

“Shh, shh,” he says. “Relax, it’s okay. Just stay down.”

His door cracks open a little. Sungyeol’s lying with his back to the door, with the blanket up to his ears, petrified. “Everything okay?” asks his mom.

“Yeah,” says Sungjong. “Sungyeol got me last night.”

“Okay. Just wanted to make sure. I’m making breakfast soon.”

“Okay.”

The door closes, and then Sungyeol glances up at Sungjong. Sungjong looks back at him, and then they both start laughing, hard, until they can’t breathe, and Sungyeol knows he’s pushing his luck but he pulls Sungjong down for another kiss anyway.

\---

Like a backwards replay of when he arrived, Sungyeol goes to the bus terminal with his mom and Sungjong. Sungjong still drives like an 80-year old, but Sungyeol tells him this now, groaning every time they make a full stop at a corner where no one else is in sight. “I’m gonna miss my bus,” he whines.

“Then you’ll have to stay with us forever,” his mom intones dramatically. Sungyeol catches Sungjong’s eyes in the rearview mirror, and Sungjong winks before he turns his eyes back to the road.

At the bus terminal, Sungyeol gets his bags out of the trunk, then goes back to the car windows to say goodbye. He kisses his mom, leaning down into the open window. “I had a really good time with the family,” he tells her.

“It was so nice to see you, baby. I’ll miss you. But you’re coming back in the winter, right?”

Sungyeol grins. “I’ll think about it.”

He walks around to the driver’s side, and for a second he just stands there, not knowing what to do. Then he laughs sheepishly, and Sungjong giggles, too.

“I have a surprise for you,” Sungjong says.

“Oh, really? What is it?” Sungyeol pats down the pockets of his backpack, but nothing feels unusual.

Sungjong smiles. “You’ll see.” Sungyeol wants to lean down and kiss him, but he sees his mom on the other side of the car, so he kicks himself gently in the shin instead.

“It was nice meeting you,” he says, and Sungjong laughs long and loud at that.

Five minutes into the bus ride, his phone vibrates twice in his pocket with an e-mail notification. Sungyeol hasn’t had one of those in a while. He takes out his phone and reads:

> _Lee Sungyeol!_
> 
> _I’ll visit Seoul in three weeks. Please wait for me ^^_

Three weeks is a lot of time, but he also knows it can pass like no time at all. He settles back into his seat, watching as the buildings of Gwangju thin out into countryside, and he smiles, his chest not fluttering or nervous, but warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra notes on this story [here!](http://glmgi.tumblr.com/private/77624739416/tumblr_n1gv67keTm1tt1bnl)


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